Tremble For My Beloved
by Backward Blossom
Summary: Forever is a very long time to say no. And one late night visits makes Claire truly regretful.


She knows he's there before he announces himself in his usual self-righteous, I'm the king of the fucking world sort of way. It's all in the tone, and after a near millennium of practice, he's got rather good at it, as she has become attuned to his presence, much to her dismay. Claire raises her eyes to her vanity. Her focus is drawn away from her own ageless reflection to the shadowy silhouette behind her.

"Might as well come out now Sylar."

"And here I thought I was being quite sneaky." He stepped into the light. His form finally taking shape as he cleared the darkness. His face, much like her own, hadn't changed. She let out an almost frustrated sigh. Logically she knew that he would never age, that he would retain the exact visage as the day he had ripped open her skull and played around in her brain. The memory was fading. She couldn't remember every specific detail of it. However, even after all this time the raw emotion of what he had done still lingered within her consciousness. It was pure, undiluted rage. He had stole himself into her home and presumed to take what was rightfully hers. Strangely enough it was the only sin of his she had yet to forgive. Perhaps she was angry that the only person to share immortality with was the world's most infamous serial killer.

Claire didn't turn to face him. There eyes made contact in the mirror, and to Claire, that was sufficient enough for now. "If that's what you truly believe I feel sorry for you."

"Pity? Do you really pity me? Is that all you feel...for me, after all this time," Claire tried to discern his expression. She couldn't decide if his words had been sincere. Sylar did enjoy a good game, something to pass the endless expanse of eternity, but then again didn't she already know the answer to her inquiry. They had been through this scenario many a times over.

"I thought I've made myself very clear on this subject Sylar."

"I realize that, and I gave you 200 years to rethink your decision, and god knows how many before that."

Claire sniffed in forced laughter and turned to face him. A sideways smirk spread across her face at his pleading stance. "And what? Did you think that I'd forget everything and jump into your arms. _Oh Sylar, please, darling, rescue me from the never ending solitude that my immortal life has forced upon me. _Please, I would never be that desperate." She turned back around not bothering to glance back at him and see his reaction. It wasn't really worth the time it would take to interpret the emotion written all over him. She couldn't inflict physical damage on his person, but she sure as hell could hit that heart he has buried deep down inside that hollowed out soul.

She busied herself with her nails, inspecting them for any flaws, but always they were spotless. It was just a ploy to show she wasn't totally invested in the conversation and or the situation at hand. She had to hold up some pretenses. If she let on she rather enjoyed these impromptu visitations, she would never hear the end of it. She had to have something to break the constant monotony of her days. If she was to be honest with herself, Sylar's presence was a sort of balm. No matter how many people she meet over the years, no matter how emotionally invested she became with them, they always left her in the end. They would die, as all normal people do. And once again she would be alone. The ageless cheerleader out of time. Although, she never really is alone was she. There was always him, lingering in the shadows, braving the crushing weight of forever with her.

Claire shook off her revelation, as she did every time the notion came to her. It was Sylar she was talking about. No matter all his attempts at redemption, there was never going to be a clean slate for them. There was just too much history between them. And she was nothing, if not stubborn, and she'd cling to that promise she made those many years ago, to hate him for the rest of her life. Any new emerging sympathies or feelings had to be smothered on the spot because if she let herself, if even for a moment, let anything happen, she would lose herself completely. And her identity was all she had left. Wasn't it?

In all her inner musings she had almost forgotten that the man in question was in the room with her. She was reminded of the fact when she could feel him directly behind her. The warmth of his frame seeping into her thin dressing gown. "No," was all he said. Simply no. To what he was referring to was completely beyond her understanding.

"No?" There, straight to the point. She wanted him to elaborate without actually admitting she cared to know. She risked a quick peek up at him in the mirror. His reflection smugly glared down at her. His eyebrow raised. Sylar knew that she was interested. That she was willing to continue with there bare attempt at conversation.

"No," he said again.

She was getting annoyed then. She did not need him to repeat what he'd already said. That didn't help her in the least. Why did he have to be such an enormous dick all the time? And then she realized, he wanted her to ask. To _beg_ him for more. The question was, did she want to know bad enough to stoop so low. Was it worth the possible humiliation on her end, to gain something so trivial. She swore his eyebrow raised a little higher at that. She wouldn't it put it past him to be reading her thoughts. It was Sylar after all. Telepathy could be on the very long list of abilities he acquired over the years, and if she could recall. He did spend sometime with Parkman. Fuck it. Why not, just this once give into this slight temptation. "No what Sylar?"

"No, I don't believe you."

"That's it? I was expecting something grander, more eloquently stated and thought out. I'm disappointed in you." She dropped eye contact, coming to her senses. She secretly thanked him for letting her down so spectacularly. She could go back to hating him in private, thousands of miles away from his sorry ass. What was she really expecting? Perhaps she had built up the whole situation so much in her mind, that reality could never compare. She gasped as she felt a hand glided over her shoulder. "What the hell–"

"No, I don't believe your indifference _Claire_," Sylar practically purred her name. "You lied. Your lonely Claire, so desperate for companionship, for someone to share the constant bullshit and heartache. We're not like them Claire. We are gods among men." His hand had migrated south, nearly to the soft slope of her right breast. She grabbed at it quickly, intending to extract it from her body, but he simply immobilized her with just a simple thought. He did have the decency to not continue any further though.

"Please let me go," her voice wavered slightly and she cursed herself for showing any weakness. What if he assumed she was enjoying the attention? She shuddered at the thought.

"Is that what you want Claire? For me to stop."

"Yes," she was proud of the conviction she displayed that time. Better late then never she guessed. Sylar let out a chuckle. The deep baritone of it making her back traitorously arch into his palm.

"Now Claire we both know that's not entirely true. Let's be honest here, you want me just as bad." He cut off her objections before she had the chance to speak. "It doesn't have to be love. I know I will never earn that, but–," his hand slipped lower, cupping her through the fabric. He gave it a gentle squeeze. He return the freedom of movement back to her, a test to prove either way what she really wanted. He attempted to take his hand away, but she pressed it back on top of her breast. Claire was just as shocked as Sylar. Her intention had been to shove his hand off and demand that he leave her side for at least another couple hundred years. He was bearable in small doses after all and she couldn't ever keep him away entirely. There was something different this time. Perhaps too much time had passed without incident, that she had become numb to all that he was and is, but no, if she looked within herself, she could still feel that hatred. There was however, that fine line, which she was clearly walking now.

Sylar was right, she could never love him. That's not what this had to be about. Who was there left to judge her? Wasn't it about time she feel again, even if it was Sylar. One hand firmly in place, Claire used the other to undo the tie at her waist, the robe slipping open enough to reveal her lacey undergarments. "What do you want Claire?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"It never is with you."

"I want you," Claire admitted.

Sylar brought his other arm to her waist, slowly gliding it around the front of her. Without warning, he lifted her out of the seat, flicking the offending furniture across the room. It crashed against the wall with a loud thud. Neither of them flinched, Claire trying hard to control her breathing as he pressed her against the small table. His front securely pressed against her backside. "Tell me what you want."

"I've already told you. I'm not going to say it again."

"No," he grinded against her ass. His prominent erection digging into her flesh. "Tell-me-what-you-want."

"Touch me," Claire whispered. To mortified with herself to speak normally.

"Where?"

Claire glided his hand down the plane of her abdomen to the edge of panties, then guided it inside, moaning slightly as he made contact with her clit, forcing his fingers over the sensitive bud. It appeared he was contempt with her lead as he let her continue with the actions. He slide one side of her robe off her shoulder, kissing the newly exposed skin. They were feather light, but if Claire didn't know any better she'd think his lips were branding her. His attentions moved to her neck, sucking a little harder as he went.

Claire moved her pelvis, trying to push his hand closer in an attempt to reach her climax quickly. Sensing her purpose, Sylar withdrew his hand, and Claire whimpered at the lose. "I've waited centuries for you Claire, did you think it would be that easy. I want you so wet that you scream out for me to take you."

"And you think you're that good?"

"Oh I_ know_ I'm that good, and soon," he whispered hotly in her ear. His breath tickling her ever so slightly, "So will you."

"Then stop being such a fucking tease."

It escalated rapidly from there. Her robe long forgotten at their feet, articles of clothing soon following suit, ending up in an unorganized pile. He had them both naked within minutes, seating her on the vanity, her legs coming to wrap around his waist. There lips finally making contact. The kiss was fierce, no air needed, and years of pent up desire boiling to the surface. Tongues battling for dominance, nails scraping against backsides, moans of ecstasy escaping between pauses. Sylar soon focused on her breasts, paying homage to their near perfection. Moving on lower, until he was on his knees before her, licking at her sex, drawing out strangled screams. She tore at his hair the overwhelming sensation washing over her. She was close, but he knew that too. He backed away, simply looking at her, a sweaty mess, legs still spread wide, and heavy lidded eyes that were shooting daggers his way.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Admiring my work."

"Get the hell back over here."

"Not until you say please."

Claire considered picking her covering back up and leaving. Served him right, arrogant bastard, but god was she horny. One look at his nude body had her throbbing even more. Damn him. "Please," she said through gritted teeth.

"Was that so hard."He strolled back over to her, gripping her hips with both hands and tilted her enough so he could slide himself into her depths. The vanity shook with the power of his thrusts, his head nestled in the crook of her neck, occasionally licking at wherever he could reach. Claire's fingers found there way into his hair, threading around the dark locks, her other hand firmly gripping the edge of the table. She could feel her orgasm approaching, her muscles tensing in anticipation. "Sylar," was all she could manage to say. Her name was like a mantra, as he repeatedly groaned out "_Claire_", occasionally the words "_mine_" forcing it's way in as well. He pulled his face away to look as her mouth opened in a silent scream. One more push and he came inside her, following her down into bliss. Claire could only think how innocent and _human _he actually seemed just then, not so much like the god he claimed to be. Although, she had to admit, perhaps a sex god.

Claire pushed him away. Almost regretting the empty feeling as he slide free. "You can leave now Sylar. See you in another century. Maybe if you behave, we can do this again." She smirked and picked up her robe.

"Now who's being the fucking tease..."


End file.
